f     m 

mi. 


^ 
$ 


U 


'  ECJJHWS  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


JOHN  HENRY  NASH  LIBRARY 

SAN  FRANCISCO 

PRESENTED  TO  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

ROBERT  GORDON  SPRQUL,  PRESIDENT. 
<$>   BY  «> 

MR.ANDMRS.MILTON  S.RAV 

CECILY,  VIRGINIA  AND  ROSALYN  RAY 


RAY  OIL  BURNER  COMPANY 


YOSEMITE 
LEGENDS 


YOSEMITE 
LEGENDS 


BY 
BERTHA  H.  SMITH 


WITH     DRAWINGS     BY 
FLORENCE    LUNDBORG 


PAUL      ELDER      AND      COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS      SAN      FRANCISCO 


Copyright,  1904 

by  Paul  Elder  and  Company 

San  Francisco 


Page 

-  I 

-  II 

-  19 

-  31 

-  45 
55 


The   Legends 

Yo-sem-i-te,  Large  Grizzly  Bear  -  - 
Po-ho-no,  Spirit  of  the  Evil  Wind  - 
Hum-moo,  the  Lost  Arrow  -  -  - 
Py-we-ack,  the  White  Water  -  - 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah  and  Tis-sa-ack 
Kom-po-pai-ses,  Leaping  Frog  Rocks 

The    Illustrations 

The  Valley Frontispiece 

Mirror  Lake 1 

A   Grizzly Facing  page  6 

Oaks II 

Po-ho-no  in  Bridal  Veil     -      Facing  page  14 

The  Lost  Arrow '    -     -  19 

Tee-hee-neh  -----      Facing  page  26 

Cloud's  Rest 31 

Spirits  of  Vernal  Falls  -     -      Facing  page  38 

El  Capitan 45 

The  Spirit  of  Tis-sa-ack     -      Facing  page  52 

The  Three  Brothers     -     -     -     -     -     -  55 

The  Patriarch's  Prayer     -      Facing  page  60 


"  Ke-koo-too-yem,  the  Sleeping  Water." 


OR          LY     BEAR 


Yo-sem-i-te,  Large  Grizzly  Bear 

WHEN    the   world   was    made,   the 
Great   Spirit   tore    out    the    heart 
of  Kay-o-pha,  the  Sky  Mountains, 
and    left    the    gash    unhealed.     He    sent    the 
Coyote   to    people   the   valley   with    a  strong 
and    hardy  race    of    men,   who    called    their 
home   Ah-wah-nee,  and   themselves,  the   Ah- 
wah-nee-chees. 

The  Ah-wah-nee-chees  lived  the  simple, 
savage  life,  which  knows  no  law  but  to  hunt 
and  kill  and  eat.  By  day  the  trackless  for- 
ests rang  with  the  clamor  of  the  chase.  By 
the  flaring  light  of  their  fires  the  hunters  gorged 
themselves  upon  the  fresh-killed  meat,  feasting 
far  into  the  night.  They  made  war  upon  the 
tribes  that  lived  beyond  the  walls  of  Ah-wah- 
nee  and  never  knew  defeat,  for  none  dared 
follow  them  to  their  rock-ribbed  fastness. 
They  were  feared  by  all  save  the  outcasts 
of  other  tribes,  whose  lawless  deeds  won  for 
them  a  place  among  the  Ah-wah-nee-chees. 
Thus  the  children  of  Ah-wah-nee  increased 
in  number  and  strength. 
[3] 


Yo-sem-i-te,  Large  Grizzly   Bear 

As  rime  went  by,  the  Ah-wah-nee-chees, 
in  their  pride  of  power,  forgot  the  Great 
Spirit  who  had  given  them  their  stronghold 
and  made  them  feared  of  all  their  race.  And 
the  Great  Spirit,  turning  upon  them  in  his 
wrath,  loosed  his  evil  forces  in  their  midst, 
scourging  them  with  a  black  sickness  that  swept 
all  before  it  as  a  hot  wind  blights  the  grain 
at  harvest  time. 

The  air  of  the  valley  was  a  poison  breath, 
in  which  the  death  shade  hovered  darkly. 
Before  the  Evil  Spirit  medicine  men  were 
powerless.  Their  mystic  spells  and  incanta- 
tions were  a  weird  mockery,  performed  among 
the  dying  and  the  dead;  and  when  at  last 
the  Evil  One  passed  onward  in  his  cursed 
flight,  the  once  proud  and  powerful  band  of 
Ah-wah-nee-chees  was  like  a  straggling  pack 
of  gaunt  gray  wolves.  Their  eyes  gleamed 
dully  in  their  shrunken  faces,  and  the  skin 
hung  in  loose  folds  on  their  wasted  bodies. 

Those  who  were  able  fled  from  the  val- 
ley, which  was  now  a  haunted  place,  eerie 
[4] 


Yo-sem-i-te,  Large  Grizzly  Bear 

with  flitting  shadows  of  funeral  fires  and 
ghostly  echoes  of  the  funeral  wail.  They 
scattered  among  the  tribes  beyond  the  moun- 
tains, and  Ah-wah-nee  was  deserted. 

A  vast  stillness  settled  upon  the  valley, 
broken  only  by  the  songs  of  birds  and  the 
roar  of  Cho-look  when  Spring  sent  the  moun- 
tain torrents  crashing  over  his  head.  The 
mountain  lion  and  the  grizzly  roamed  at  will 
among  the  rocks  and  tangled  chinquapin,  fear- 
less of  arrows;  the  doe  led  her  young  by  an 
open  path  to  the  river,  where  trout  flashed 
their  colors  boldly  in  the  sun.  In  the  autumn 
the  choke-cherries  and  manzanita  berries  dried 
upon  their  stems,  and  ripened  acorns  rotted 
to  dust  upon  the  ground  after  the  squirrels 
had  gathered  their  winter  store.  The  home- 
less Ah-wah-nee-chees  circled  wide  in  passing 
the  valley. 

Over  beyond  To-co-yah,  the  North  Dome, 

among  the  Mo-nos  and  Pai-u-tes,  a  few  of  the 

ill-fated   Ah-wah-nee-chees  had  found  refuge. 

Among  them  was  the  chief  of  the  tribe,  who 

[5] 


Yo-sem-i-te,  Large  Grizzly  Bear 

after  a  time  took  a  Mo-no  maiden  for  his 
bride.  By  this  Mo-no  woman  he  had  a  son, 
and  they  gave  him  the  name  of  Ten-ie-ya. 
Before  another  round  of  seasons,  the  spirit  of 
the  Ah-wah-nee-chee  chieftain  had  wandered 
on  to  the  Land  of  the  Sun,  the  home  of  happy 
souls. 

Ten-ie-ya  grew  up  among  his  mother's 
people,  but  the  fire  of  a  warrior  chief  was 
in  his  blood  and  he  liked  not  to  live  where 
the  word  of  another  was  law.  The  fire  in 
his  blood  was  kept  aflame  by  the  words  of 
an  old  man,  the  patriarch  of  his  father's  tribe, 
who  urged  him  to  return  to  Ah-wah-nee,  the 
home  of  his  ancestors,  and  gather  about  him 
the  people  whose  chief  he  was  by  right  of 
birth. 

So  Ten-ie-ya  went  back  across  the  moun- 
tains by  a  trail  abandoned  long  ago,  and  from 
the  camps  of  other  tribes  came  those  in  whose 
veins  was  any  trace  of  Ah-wah-nee-chee 
blood;  and,  as  before,  the  number  was  in- 
creased by  lawless  braves  of  weaker  bands 
[6] 


A  monster  grizzly  that  had  just  crept  forth  from  his  winter  cave/ 


Yo-sem-i-te,  Large  Grizzly  Bear 

who  liked  a  greater  freedom  for  their  law- 
lessness. Again,  under  the  favor  of  the  Great 
Spirit,  the  Ah-wah-nee-chees  flourished  and  by 
their  fierce  strength  and  daring  became  to 
other  tribes  as  the  mountain  lion  to  the  wolf 
and  the  coyote  and  the  mountain  sheep. 

And  it  chanced  that  one  day  while  Ten- 
ie-ya  and  his  warriors  were  camped  near 
Le-ham-i-te,  the  Canon  of  the  Arrow-wood,  a 
young  brave  went  out  in  the  early  morning 
to  the  lake  of  Ke-koo-too-yem,  the  Sleeping 
Water,  to  spear  fish.  His  lithe,  strong  limbs 
took  no  heed  of  the  rocky  talus  in  his  path, 
and  he  leaped  from  boulder  to  boulder,  fol- 
lowing the  wall  that  rose  sheer  above  him 
and  cut  the  blue  sky  overhead. 

As  he  reached  the  base  of  Scho-ko-ni, 
the  cliff  that  arches  like  the  shade  of  an 
Indian  cradle  basket,  he  came  suddenly  upon 
a  monster  grizzly  that  had  just  crept  forth 
from  his  winter  cave.  The  grizzly  knows  no 
man  for  his  friend;  least  of  all,  the  man  who 
surprises  him  at  the  first  meal  after  his  long 
[7] 


Yo-sem-i-te,  Large  Grizzly  Bear 

sleep.  The  rivals  of  Ah-wah-nee  were  face 
to  face. 

The  Ah-wah-nee-chee  had  no  weapon 
save  his  fish  spear,  useless  as  a  reed;  yet  he 
had  the  fearlessness  of  youth  and  the  courage 
of  a  race  to  whom  valorous  deeds  are  more 
than  strings  of  wampum,  piles  of  pelt  or  many 
cattle.  He  faced  the  grizzly  boldly  as  the 
clumsy  hulk  rose  to  its  full  height,  at  bay  and 
keen  for  attack.  With  instinctive  love  of  con- 
flict roused,  the  young  chief  seized  a  broken 
limb  that  lay  at  his  feet,  and  gave  the  grizzly 
blow  for  blow. 

The  claws  of  the  maddened  brute  raked 
his  flesh.  The  blood  ran  warm  over  his 
glistening  skin  and  matted  the  bristled  yellow 
fur  of  the  grizzly. 

The  Ah-wah-nee-chee  fought  bravely. 
While  there  was  blood  in  his  body,  he  could 
fight;  when  the  blood  was  gone,  he  could  die; 
but  with  the  traditions  of  his  ancestors  firing 
his  brain,  he  could  not  flee. 

Furious  with  pain,  blinded  by  the  blows 
[8] 


Yo-sem-i-te,  Large  Grizzly  Bear 

from  the  young  chiefs  club  and  by  the  blood 
from  the  young  chief's  torn  flesh,  the  grizzly 
struggled  savagely.  He,  too,  was  driven  by 
the  law  of  his  breed,  the  universal  law  of  the 
forest,  the  law  of  Indian  and  grizzly  alike, — 
which  is  to  kill. 

Such  a  battle  could  not  last.  With  a  low 
growl  the  crippled  grizzly  brought  himself  to- 
gether and  struck  with  the  full  force  of  his 
powerful  arm.  The  blow  fell  short. 

Urging  his  waning  strength  to  one  last 
effort,  the  Ah-wah-nee-chee  raised  his  club 
high  above  his  head  and  brought  it  down 
with  a  heavy,  well-aimed  stroke  that  crushed 
the  grizzly's  skull  and  sent  him  rolling  among 
the  bouldefs,  dead. 

That  night  as  the  Ah-wah-nee-chees 
feasted  themselves  on  bear  meat,  the  story 
of  the  young  chief's  bravery  was  told,  and 
told  again;  and  from  that  hour  he  was  known 
as  Yo-sem-i-te,  the  Large  Grizzly  Bear. 

In  time  the  name  Yo-sem-i-te  was  given 
to  all  the  tribe  of  Ah-wah-nee-chees,  who 
[9] 


Yo-sem-i-te,  Large  Grizzly   Bear 


for  fearlessness  and  lawlessness  were  rivaled 
only  by  the  grizzly  with  whom  they  shared 
their  mountain  fastness.  And  when  long  after- 
ward the  white  man  came  and  took  Ah-wah- 
nee  for  his  own,  he  gave  it  the  name  by 
which  Ten-ie-ya's  band  was  known;  and 
Cho-look,  the  high  fall  that  makes  the  earth 
tremble  with  its  mighty  roar,  he  also  called 
by  the  name  of  the  Large  Grizzly  Bear, 
Yo-sem-i-te. 


[10] 


green  banners  in  welcome 
of  the  coming  summer." 


P    O  -  H   O  -IN   O 

SPIRIT   OF   THE    EVIL  WIND 


ii 


Po-ho-no,  Spirit   of   the   Evil  Wind 

THE  white  man  calls  it  Bridal  Veil. 
To  the  Indian  it  is  Po-ho-no,  Spirit 
of  the  Evil  Wind. 

The  white  man,  in  passing,  pauses  to  watch 
the  filmy  cloud  that  hangs  there  like  a  thou- 
sand yards  of  tulle  flung  from  the  crest  of  the 
rocky  precipice,  wafted  outward  by  the  breeze 
that  blows  ever  and  always  across  the  Bridal 
Veil  Meadows.  By  the  light  of  mid-afternoon 
the  veil  seems  caught  half-way  with  a  clasp 
of  bridal  gems,  seven-hued,  evanescent;  now 
glowing  with  color,  now  fading  to  clear  white 
sun  rays  before  the  eye. 

The  Indian,  if  chance  brings  him  near  this 
waterfall,  hurries  on  with  face  averted,  a  vague 
dread  in  his  heart;  for  in  the  meshes  of  the 
Bridal  Veil  hides  an  eerie  spirit,  a  mischievous, 
evil  one — Po-ho-no.  In  the  ripple  of  the  water 
as  it  falls  among  the  rocks,  the  Indian  hears 
Po-ho-no's  voice.  In  the  tossing  spray  he  sees 
the  limp  forms  and  waving  arms  of  hapless 
victims  lured  by  the  voice  to  their  destruction. 

The  Indian's  mistrust  of  Po-ho-no  dates 
[13] 


Po-ho-no,  Spirit   of   the   Evil  Wind 

back  to  a  day  of  long  ago,  a  bright  blue  day 
of  early  spring  such  as  the  children  of  Ah- 
wah-nee  love,  when  the  valley  has  thrown  off 
its  white  winter  blanket,  and  dogwood  blooms, 
and  the  oaks  unfurl  their  soft  green  banners 
in  welcome  of  the  coming  summer.  It  was 
the  time  when  deer  begin  to  trail,  leaving  the 
lowlands  of  the  river  for  the  higher  ranges ; 
and  while  the  men  hunted  in  the  forest,  the 
women  went  forth  to  gather  roots  and  berries 
for  the  feast. 

The  Sun  had  come  back  from  the  south; 
and  as  he  stood  high  in  the  heavens  looking 
into  the  valley  over  the  shoulder  of  Lo-yah, 
the  Sentinel,  three  women  were  tempted  to 
stray  from  the  others  and  wander  along  a 
trail  that  led  high  above  the  valley  to  the 
spot  whence  the  misty  spray  of  the  waterfall 
flutters  downward. 

They  talked  with  what  zest  women  may 

whose   simple    lives    give   them    no    secrets  to 

hold  or  betray.     They  laughed   as  they  filled 

their  baskets,  stooping  to  scrape  the  earth  from 

[14] 


..   • 


"For  in  the  meshes  of  the  Bridal  Veil  hides   *   *    Po-ho-no.' 


Po-ho-no,  Spirit   of   the   Evil  Wind 

a  tender  root,  to  strip  the  seed  from  a  stalk, 
or  gather  grasses  used  in  basketry;  and  their 
voices  were  as  the  purling  of  lazy  waters 
gliding  over  stones.  They  were  happy,  for  as 
yet  they  knew  naught  of  the  joy-sapping  fever 
of  discontent. 

Of  a  sudden  the  laughter  ceased,  and  in 
its  stead  arose  the  mocking  wail  of  Po-ho-no, 
Spirit  of  the  Evil  Wind.  The  youngest  of 
the  women,  venturing  near  the  edge  of  the 
cliff  to  pick  an  overhanging  wisp  of  grass,  had 
stepped  upon  a  rock  where  moss  grew  like  a 
thick-woven  blanket.  She  did  not  know  that 
the  soft,  wet  moss  was  a  snare  of  the  Evil 
One,  and  even  as  the  others  cried  out  in 
warning,  Po-ho-no  seized  her  and  hurled  her 
down  among  the  rocks. 

A  pair  of  helpless  arms  waving  in  despair; 
long,  loose  hair  sweeping  across  a  face,  half 
veiling  one  last  look  of  terror — and  she  was 
gone.  If  she  uttered  a  cry,  the  sound  was 
lost  in  the  gleeful  chatter  of  Po-ho-no  and  his 
impish  host. 

[15] 


Po-ho-no,  Spirit  of   the  Evil  Wind 

The  two  women  left  above  dared  not  go 
near  the  treacherous  ledge,  lest  they  too  come 
within  reach  of  the  vengeful  Spirit.  Afraid 
even  to  give  a  backward  glance,  they  hurried 
down  the  steep  path  to  spread  the  alarm. 
Scarce  was  their  story  told  before  a  band  of 
daring  braves  rushed  to  the  rescue  of  the 
maiden;  but  though  they  searched  till  night 
among  the  rocks  where  the  water  swirls  and 
leaps  to  catch  the  rainbow  thrown  there  by 
the  western  sun,  they  found  no  trace  of  her. 
The  maiden's  spirit  had  joined  the  forces  of 
Po-ho-no,  and  could  know  no  rest,  nor  be 
released  from  his  hateful  thrall,  until  by  her 
aid  another  victim  was  drawn  to  his  doom. 
Here  she  must  stay,  hidden  by  the  mist  from 
watchful  eyes,  beckoning  always,  tempting  al- 
ways, luring  another  soul  to  pay  the  forfeit  of 
her  own  release.  Then,  and  then  only,  would 
the  spirit  of  the  maiden  be  free  to  pass  on  to 
the  home  of  the  Great  Spirit  in  the  West. 

Since  that  day  of  long  ago  many  of  the 
children  of  Ah-wah-nee  have  fallen  prey  to 
[16] 


Po-ho-no,  Spirit   of   the   Evil  Wind 

Po-ho-no,  the  restless  Spirit  of  the  Evil  Wind, 
who  wanders  ever  through  the  canon  and  puffs 
his  breath  upon  the  waterfall  to  make  for  him- 
self a  hiding-place  of  mist.  Now  every  Ah- 
wah-nee-chee  knows  this  haunt  of  the  Evil 
One.  By  day  they  hurry  past,  and  not  one 
would  sleep  at  night  within  sight  or  sound  of 
the  fall  lest  the  fatal  breath  of  Po-ho-no  sweep 
over  him  and  bear  him  away  to  a  spirit  land 
of  torture  and  unrest. 


[17] 


"Jtib  dHj  m  bagbol  £001  bsinioq  6 


bsate  zti  nl 


"In  its  stead  they  left  a  pointed  rock  lodged  in  the  cliff." 


H  U  M  -  M  O  O 

LOST       ARROW 


Hum-moo,   the   Lost   Arrow 


TEE-HEE-NEH  was  the  fairest  of  the 
daughters    of    Ah-wah-nee,    and    the 
happiest,    for    she    was    the    chosen 
bride  of  the  brave  Kos-soo-kah. 

When  she  went  forth  from  her  father's 
lodge  to  bathe  in  the  shadowy  depths  of  Ke- 
koo-too-yem,  the  Sleeping  Water,  her  step  was 
light  as  the  touch  of  a  wind-swept  leaf  upon 
the  rocks.  When  she  stooped  to  lave  her 
cheeks  in  the  cool  spray,  her  dark  hair  fell 
about  her  shoulders  like  a  silken  web,  and 
the  water  mirror  showed  her  a  pair  of  laugh- 
ing eyes  of  the  color  of  ripened  acorns,  and 
in  them  the  soft  light  of  an  Indian  summer 
day.  The  sound  of  her  voice  was  as  the 
patter  of  rain  on  green  leaves,  and  her  heart 
was  fearless  and  full  of  love. 

No  other  woman  of  the  tribe  could  weave 
such  baskets  as  grew  by  the  magic  skill  of 
her  fingers,  and  she  alone  knew  the  secret  of 
interweaving  the  bright  feathers  of  the  red- 
headed woodpecker  and  the  topknots  of  moun- 
tain quail.  Her  acorn  bread  was  always 
[21] 


Hum-moo,   the   Lost   Arrow 


sweetest,  the  berries  she  gathered  ripest,  the 
deerskin  she  tanned  softer  than  any  other; 
and  all  because  of  the  love  in  her  heart,  for 
she  knew  that  Kos-soo-kah  would  eat  of  her 
bread  and  fruit,  would  drink  from  the  baskets 
she  wove,  would  wear  upon  his  feet  the 
moccasins  she  made. 

Kos-soo-kah  was  a  hunter,  fearless  and 
bold,  sure  with  bow  and  spear,  always  fortu- 
nate in  the  chase.  In  his  veins  ran  the  blood 
that  surges  hot  when  there  are  daring  deeds 
to  do,  and  of  all  the  young  chiefs  of  Ah- 
wah-nee  he  had  the  greatest  power  among 
his  people.  Like  the  wooing  of  the  evening 
star  by  the  crescent  moon  was  the  mating  of 
Tee-hee-neh  with  Kos-soo-kah;  and  when  the 
young  chief  gathered  together  robes  of  squirrel 
and  deerskin  and  of  the  skins  of  water-fowl, 
arrows  and  spear-heads,  strings  of  coral  and 
bear  teeth,  and  gave  them  as  a  marriage  token 
to  Tee-hee-neh' s  father,  the  old  chief  looked 
upon  him  with  favor. 

This  was  their  marriage.  But  before  Tee- 
[22] 


Hum-moo,   the    Lost   Arrow 

hee-neh  should  go  with  Kos-soo-kah  to  his 
lodge  there  must  be  a  great  feast,  and  all  day 
long  Ah-wah-nee  was  astir  with  signs  of 
preparation. 

From  many  shady  places  came  a  sound  like 
the  tap-tap-tapping  of  woodpeckers,  where  the 
older  women  sat  upon  smooth,  flat  rocks 
pounding  dried  acorns  into  meal  to  make  the 
acorn  bread;  and  the  younger  women  went 
with  their  baskets  to  the  meadows  and  woods 
for  grass  seeds,  herbs  and  wild  honey. 

Early  in  the  morning  Kos-soo-kah  left  his 
lodge  and  gathered  about  him  the  strongest 
of  the  young  braves  to  go  forth  into  the  for- 
est and  net  the  grouse,  and  seek  the  bear  and 
deer  in  their  haunts,  for  this  was  the  man's 
share  of  the  marriage  feast.  While  his  hunters 
strung  their  bows  and  fastened  arrow-heads 
to  the  feathered  shafts,  Kos-soo-kah  stole  away 
for  a  last  word  with  Tee-hee-neh,  his  bride; 
and  when  they  parted  it  was  with  the  promise 
that  at  the  end  of  the  day's  hunt  Kos-soo- 
kah  should  drop  an  arrow  from  the  cliff  be- 
[23] 


Hum-moo,   the    Lost   Arrow 

tween  Cho-look,  the  High  Fall,  and  Le-ham-i-te, 
the  Canon  of  the  Arrow- wood.  By  the  number 
of  feathers  it  bore,  Tee-hee-neh  could  tell  what 
the  kill  had  been. 

The  morning  mists  were  still  tangled  in 
the  pines  when  Kos-soo-kah  and  his  hunters 
began  to  climb  the  trail  that  cut  into  the 
heart  of  the  forest.  From  a  covert  spot  Tee- 
hee-neh  watched  her  lover  disappear  through 
the  cleft  in  the  northern  wall,  where  the  arrow- 
wood  grows  thick;  then  she  joined  the  other 
women  and  worked  with  a  light  heart  until 
long  shadows  stretched  across  the  meadow 
and  warned  her  of  the  hour  when  she  was 
to  be  near  the  foot  of  Cho-look  to  receive 
the  message  from  Kos-soo-kah. 

Far  over  the  mountains  Kos-soo-kah 
laughed  loud  with  a  hunter's  pride  as  he 
bound  to  his  swiftest  arrow  all  the  feathers  of 
a  grouse's  wing.  Sped  by  a  hunter's  pride 
and  a  lover's  pride  he  leaped  along  the  rocky 
trail,  far  in  advance  of  the  youthful  braves  of 
his  band  who  bore  among  them  the  best  of 
[24] 


Hum-moo,   the   Lost   Arro 


w 


the  kill.  Eagerly  he  watched  the  western  sky, 
fearful  lest  the  sun's  last  kiss  should  tinge  the 
brow  of  Tis-sa-ack  before  he  reached  the 
cliff  whence  his  bow  should  let  fly  the  mes- 
sage to  the  waiting  one  below. 

The  frightened  quail  fluttered  in  his  path 
unseen.  A  belated  vulture,  skimming  the  fading 
sky,  seemed  not  to  be  in  motion.  So  swiftly 
Kos-soo-kah  ran,  the  wind  stood  still  to  let 
him  pass. 

He  reached  the  valley  wall  at  last,  his 
strength  well  spent  but  still  enough  to  pull 
his  bow  to  a  full  half-circle.  Poised  for  an 
instant,  the  feathered  shaft  caught  on  its  tip  a 
sun  ray,  then  flew  downward;  but  though 
mighty  and  sure  the  force  that  sent  it,  no 
message  came  to  the  faithful  Tee-hee-neh. 

Hour  after  hour  she  waited,  the  joy  in 
her  heart  changing  to  a  nameless  fear  as  the 
blue  sky  faded  gray,  and  the  gray  went  purple 
in  the  thickening  dusk,  and  yet  no  sign,  no 
sound  of  the  returning  hunters. 

"  Kos-soo-kah !  Kos-soo-kah ! "  trembled  her 
[25] 


Hum-moo,   the    Lost   Arrow 


voice  in  the  stillness.  Only  a  weird  echo  an- 
swered, "  Kos-soo-kah." 

Perhaps  they  had  wandered  far,  and  Kos- 
soo-kah  could  not  reach  the  cliff  till  the  night 
shadows  had  crept  out  of  the  valley,  and  over 
the  tops  of  the  mountains.  Perhaps  even  now 
he  was  returning  down  the  Canon  of  the 
Arrow-wood.  This  she  whispered  to  a  heart 
that  gave  no  answering  hope. 

She  would  go  forward  to  meet  him,  and 
hear  from  his  lips  the  message  which  the 
arrow  failed  to  bring.  As  she  hurried  along 
the  narrow  trail,  clinging  to  the  slanting  ledges, 
pushing  aside  the  overhanging  branches,  she 
called  and  called,  "  Kos-soo-kah ! " 

Now  and  again  she  stopped  to  listen  for 
the  sound  of  voices,  or  of  footsteps,  but  only 
the  cry  of  a  night  bird  or  the  crackling  of 
dry  twigs  stirred  the  still  air. 

Trembling  with  uncertainty  and  fear,  she 
reached  the  top  of  the  sharp  ascent.  There 
by  the  light  of  the  stars  she  saw  fresh  foot- 
prints in  the  loose,  moist  earth.  Her  heart 
[26] 


"Crouching  there   *    *   she  called  again,  ' Kos-soo-kah ! '" 


Hum-moo,   the   Lost    Arrow 


told  her  they  were  his;  her  quick  eye  told  her 
they  went  toward  the  cliff,  but  did  not  return. 
Crouching  there  beside  them,  she  called  again, 
"  Kos-soo-kah  !  "  Not  even  an  echo  answered 
the  despairing  cry. 

Slowly  she  crept  forward,  following  the 
fresh  trail  to  the  edge  of  the  wall.  She  leaned 
far  over,  and  there  on  a  mound  of  fallen  rock 
lay  her  lover,  motionless,  nor  answering  her 
call.  Tight  in  his  grasp  was  the  spent  bow, 
the  sign  of  a  promise  kept. 

As  she  looked,  there  came  again  to  Tee- 
hee-neh's  mind  the  dull  roar  of  rending  rock, 
the  low  moan  of  falling  earth,  that  ran  through 
the  valley  at  the  sunset  hour.  Now  she  knew 
that  as  Kos-soo-kah  drew  his  bow  to  speed 
the  messenger  of  love,  the  ground  beneath  his 
feet  had  given  way,  carrying  him  with  the 
fatal  avalanche. 

The  giifs  heart  no  longer  beat  fast  with 

fear.     It  seemed  not  to  beat  at  all.     But  there 

was  no  time  for  grief,  —  perhaps  Kos-soo-kah 

had  not  ceased  to  breathe.     On  the  topmost 

[27] 


Hum-moo,  the   Lost   Arrow 


point  of  rock  she  lighted  a  signal  fire,  and 
forced  its  flames  high  into  the  dark,  flashing  a 
call  for  help.  It  would  be  long,  she  knew, 
before  any  one  could  come;  but  this  was  the 
only  chance  to  save  Kos-soo-kah. 

Hours  passed.  With  feverish  energy  she 
piled  dry  branches  high  upon  the  signal  fire, 
nor  let  its  wild  beckonings  rest  a  moment.  At 
last  old  men  came  from  the  valley,  and  the 
young  braves  from  the  mountains  bearing  with 
them  the  carcasses  of  deer  and  bear. 

With  their  hunting-knives  they  cut  lengths 
of  tamarack,  and  lashed  them  together  with 
thongs  of  hide  from  the  deer  killed  for  the 
marriage  feast.  By  means  of  this  pole  they 
would  have  lowered  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff 
a  strong  young  brave  but  that  Tee-hee-neh 
pushed  him  aside  and  took  his  place.  Hers 
must  be  the  voice  to  whisper  in  Kos-soo-kah's 
ear  the  first  word  of  hope;  hers  the  hand  to 
push  aside  the  rocks  that  pinioned  his  body; 
hers  the  face  his  slowly  opening  eyes  should  see. 

They  lowered  her  to  his  side;  and,  loosing 

[28] 


Hum-moo,  the   Lost   Arrow 

the  cords  that  bound  her,  she  knelt  beside 
him,  whispering  in  his  ear,  "  Kos-soo-kah ! "  No 
sound  came  from  the  cold,  set  lips.  The  wide- 
open  eyes  stared  unseeing  at  the  sky.  Tee- 
hee-neh  knew  that  he  was  dead. 

She  did  not  cry  aloud  after  the  manner 
of  Indian  women  in  their  grief,  but  gently 
bound  the  helpless  form  with  the  deerskin 
cords  and  raised  it  as  high  as  her  arms  could 
reach  when  the  pole  was  drawn  upward; 
then  waited  in  silence  until  she  was  lifted  by 
the  willing  hands  above. 

When  she  found  herself  again  at  Kos-soo- 
kah's  side,  she  stood  for  an  instant  with  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  loved  form,  there  in  the  cold, 
starless  dawn  of  her  marriage  day;  then  with 
his  name  upon  her  lips  she  fell  forward  upon 
his  breast.  They  drew  her  away,  but  the 
spirit  of  Tee-hee-neh  had  followed  the  spirit 
of  Kos-soo-kah. 

The  two  were  placed  together  upon  the 
funeral  pyre,  and  with  them  was  burned  all 
that  had  been  theirs.  In  Kos-soo-kah's  hand 
[29] 


was  the  bow,  but  the  arrow  could  not  be 
found.  The  lovers  had  spirited  it  away.  In 
its  stead  they  left  a  pointed  rock  lodged  in  the 
cliff  between  Cho-look,  the  High  Fall,  and 
Le-ham-i-te,  the  Canon  of  the  Arrow-wood,  in 
token  of  Kos-soo-kah's  fulfilled  pledge.  This 
rock  is  known  to  the  children  of  Ah-wah-nee 
as  Hum-moo,  the  Lost  Arrow. 


"The  moon  floated  high  above  Cloud's  Rest. 


P  Y  -  W  E  - 

THE       W  H  ITE 


Py-we-ack,  the  White  Water 

SINCE  the  peaks  of  Sky  Mountains  were 
little  hills,  the  Ah-wah-nee-chees  have 
lived  in  the  deep,  grassy  valley  the 
white  man  knows  as  Yo-sem-i-te.  Eastward 
of  To-co-yah,  the  Acorn  Basket  Rock,  live 
the  Mo-nos;  and  for  a  thousand  years  the 
sachems  of  the  Ah-wah-nee-chees  and  the 
sachems  of  the  Mo-nos  smoked  the  pipe  of 
peace  together. 

In  the  autumn  when  the  Great  Spirit 
swept  through  Ah-wah-nee  with  a  breath  of 
frost,  painting  the  leaves  all  scarlet  and  gold 
and  brown,  scattering  tufts  of  snow-white 
cloud  across  the  blue  sky,  and  weaving  a  web 
of  bluish  haze  among  the  green  pine  tops,  the 
Ah-wah-nee-chee  braves  prepared  for  the  last 
great  hunt  of  the  year.  The  feast  of  the 
manzanita  berries  was  past,  and  the  feast  of 
acorns,  and  after  the  autumn  hunt  came  the 
feast  of  venison. 

As  the  time  of  the  feast  drew  near,  run- 
ners were  sent  across  the  mountains,  carrying 
a  bundle  of  willow  sticks,  or  a  sinew  cord  or 
[33] 


Py-we-ack,  the  White  Water 

leaf  of  dried  grass  tied  with  knots,  that  the 
Mo-nos  might  know  how  many  suns  must 
cross  the  sky  before  they  should  go  to  Ah- 
wah-nee  to  share  the  feast  of  venison  with 
their  neighbors. 

And  the  Mo-nos  gathered  together  bas- 
kets of  pinon  nuts,  and  obsidian  arrow-heads, 
and  strings  of  shells,  to  carry  with  them  to 
give  in  return  for  acorns  and  chinquapin  nuts 
and  basket  willow,  which  do  not  grow  on  the 
farther  side  of  Sky  Mountains  and  which  the 
Great  Spirit  has  given  in  plenty  to  the  chil- 
dren of  Ah-wah-nee. 

At  the  feast  the  great  chiefs  sat  side  by 
side  and  the  smoke  of  their  pipes  curled  into 
a  single  spiral  in  the  air.  And  when  all  were 
gorged  with  food,  they  danced  about  the  fire 
chanting  the  mighty  deeds  of  their  ancestors, 
or  sat  upon  the  ground  playing  the  ancient 
hand  game,  he-no-wah,  staking  their  arrows 
and  their  bearskin  robes,  their  wampum  and 
their  women  upon  the  hand  that  held  the 
hidden  willow  stick. 

[34] 


Py-we-ack,  the  White  Water 

Not  only  in  their  pastimes  were  they 
friends.  When  the  Great  Spirit  wafted  a 
soul  to  the  happy  land  in  the  West,  the  run- 
ners went  again  across  the  Sky  Mountains 
and  the  tribes  gathered  together  to  join  in  the 
funeral  dance  and  mingle  their  voices  in  the 
funeral  wail.  In  grief,  as  in  joy,  they  were 
friends, —  for  a  thousand  years. 

But  the  law  of  the  mountain  and  the 
forest  is  not  a  law  of  peace,  and  it  was  the 
will  of  the  Great  Spirit  that  they  should  not 
dwell  always  in  harmony. 

The  Ah-wah-nee-chees  numbered  more 
men  than  women;  and  from  time  to  time 
bands  of  young  braves,  in  the  flush  of  primal 
strength,  swept  through  the  country  with  the 
ungoverned  madness  of  a  bullock  herd,  carry- 
ing away  women  from  the  villages  they  raided. 

When  the  Mo-no  men  came  to  Ah-wah- 
nee  to  the  feasts  of  the  manzanita  berry  and 
of  acorns  and  of  venison,  they  brought  their 
women  with  them.  These  mountain  women 
were  pleasing  to  the  eye,  erect  as  the  silver 
[35] 


Py-we-ack,  the  White  Water 

fir  that  grows  upon  the  mountain  side,  clean- 
limbed and  free  of  motion  as  the  panther; 
and  more  than  all  others  were  they  coveted 
by  the  Ah-wah-nee-chees,  who  chafed  under 
a  friendship  that  thwarted  desire. 

And  the  story  is  told  that  at  a  certain 
feast  of  venison  Wa-hu-lah,  a  Mo-no  maiden, 
stirred  the  fancy  of  a  young  warrior  of 
Ten-ie-ya's  band.  Spring,  the  love  season  of 
Nature's  children,  had  passed  the  young  war- 
rior many  rimes  since  he  came  to  manhood, 
and  he  had  not  heeded  her  soft  whisper.  But 
never  before  had  he  seen  Wa-hu-lah,  the 
Mo-no  maiden. 

Now,  through  all  the  time  of  feasting,  he 
watched  eagerly  for  the  love  sign  in  Wa-hu- 
lah's  eyes;  but  he  saw  there  only  the  depth 
and  the  darkness  and  the  mystery  of  a  pool 
hidden  in  the  heart  of  a  forest  of  pines,  which 
no  ray  of  sunlight  pierces. 

Love  was  dead  in  the  heart  of  Wa-hu- 
lah.  On  her  face  could  still  be  seen  dim 
traces  of  mourning,  lines  of  pitch  and  ashes 
[36] 


Py-we-ack,  the  White  Water 


not  yet  worn  away,  though  there  had  been 
two  seasons  of  grass  and  flowers  since  her 
voice  rose  in  the  funeral  wail  beside  the  pyre 
of  her  dead  lover.  She  had  not  died  as  the 
dove  does  when  her  mate  is  gone;  but  she 
could  not  forget,  and  as  she  sat  among  the 
feasters  sorrow  throbbed  in  her  heart  like  the 
ceaseless  whirr  of  a  grouse's  wing.  The  Ah- 
wah-nee-chee  warrior  sought  in  vain  for  an 
answering  sign,  and  when  the  days  of  feasting 
were  over  Wa-hu-lah  went  away  with  her 
father. 

Day  and  night  the  Ah-wah-nee-chee  thought 
of  his  love;  the  face  of  Wa-hu-lah  was  ever 
before  his  eyes;  and  he  knew  that  he  must 
follow  her  and  bring  her  to  his  lodge.  But 
already  the  snow-clouds  resting  on  the  peaks 
of  Sky  Mountains  were  scattering  their  bur- 
den, soft  and  white  as  the  down  of  Tis-sa- 
ack's  wings.  Valley  and  forest  lay  lifeless 
under  a  thick  blanket,  and  the  trails  were 
choked  with  snow. 

The  Ah-wah-nee-chee*s  love  smouldered 
[37] 


Py-we-ack,  the  White  Water 

through  the  winter  months,  with  naught  but 
the  memory  of  Wa-hu-lah's  sad,  unanswering 
eyes  to  feed  upon.  Far  away,  in  the  wig- 
wam of  her  father,  Wa-hu-lah  nursed  her 
grief. 

At  last  spring  came,  with  soft,  straying 
winds  that  breathe  of  new  life.  Birds  sang 
in  the  trees  as  they  built  their  nests;  squirrels 
chattered  softly  among  the  rocks;  Too-loo-lo- 
we-ack,  the  Rushing  Water,  babbled  of  the 
joys  of  summer;  and  Yo-wi-we  dashed  from 
the  heights  to  carry  the  message  of  love 
brought  by  the  sun  from  the  southland  to  all 
the  valley. 

While  yet  the  trails  were  heavy  with 
melting  snows,  the  Ah-wah-nee-chee  warrior 
stole  away  from  his  lodge  one  night  and  set 
his  face  toward  the  rising  sun,  yonder  to  the 
eastward  of  To-co-yah;  and  ere  the  day  god 
had  wrapped  himself  in  his  flaming  cloud 
blanket  in  the  far-off  West,  the  Ah-wah-nee- 
chee  was  smoking  the  peace  pipe  with  the 
chief  of  the  Mo-nos,  Wa-hu-lah's  father. 
[38J 


\o  buoiris  s  iu  laH  br/i 


"The  white  spirits  of  the  water  threw  themselves  a 
and  hid  her  in  a  shroud  of  spray 


Py-we-ack,  the  White  Water 


Before  the  sun  again  strode  the  bald 
peaks  of  the  Sky  Mountains,  he  was  gone; 
and  when  the  women  came  forth  to  make 
ready  the  morning  meal,  the  old  chief  saw 
that  Wa-hu-lah  was  not  among  them;  and  he 
knew  that  the  spirit  of  the  peace  pipe  had 
been  violated. 

Wa-hu-lah  made  no  struggle  when  she 
found  herself  borne  along  in  the  arms  of  her 
captor.  Her  heart  beat  like  the  heart  of  a 
hunted  thing  that  feels  the  hunter  near  and 
cover  far  away,  but  her  face  showed  no  sign. 
It  was  useless  to  resist;  but  had  the  Ah-wah- 
nee-chee  looked  into  the  still,  sad  depths  of 
her  eyes,  he  would  have  seen  there  a  glitter- 
ing spark,  the  fire  of  a  woman's  lasting  hate. 

Along  the  heavy  trail  he  toiled,  and  not 
until  he  reached  the  kinder  paths  that  Spring 
had  cleared  did  he  let  Wa-hu-lah's  feet  rest 
upon  the  ground.  Then  she  walked  before 
him,  silent,  submissive,  but  with  the  spark  still 
glowing  in  her  downcast  eyes. 

Silent,  submissive,  she  followed  as  he  led 
[39] 


Py-we-ack,  the  White   Water 

the  way  to  the  place  he  had  prepared  for 
her, — a  woodland  bower,  pine  carpeted,  roofed 
with  boughs  of  oak  and  alder,  the  couch  of 
branches  spread  with  deerskin. 

Silent,  submissive,  she  ate  of  the  food  he 
brought  her,  fresh  bear  meat  and  acorn  bread, 
and  grass  roots  fattened  by  the  melting  snows. 

Silent  still,  but  with  submission  changed  to 
defiant  purpose,  she  watched  him  go  away 
and  take  his  place  among  the  braves  of  his 
tribe  who  ate  as  the  women  prepared  their 
food.  Hunger  possessed  him  and  he  gave  no 
thought  to  caution.  At  another  time  his  quick 
ear  might  have  caught  the  sound  of  twigs 
snapping  under  the  pressure  of  a  moccasined 
foot;  now  it  heard  only  the  hiss  of  meat 
thrown  upon  live  coals. 

The  moon  floated  high  above  Cloud's 
Rest  and  the  valley  was  full  of  light,  yet 
none  saw  the  dark  figure  that  crept  stealthily, 
warily,  into  the  shadow  of  the  crouching 
chaparral,  keeping  with  the  wind  that  blew 
from,  not  toward,  the  camp-fire.  Once  only 
[40] 


Py-we-ack,  the  White  Water 

Wa-hu-lah  paused,  and  turned  to  see  that  she 
was  not  discovered;  and  from  her  eyes  shot 
one  swift  look  that  would  have  killed,  could 
looks  deal  death.  Then  she  sped  forward  on 
the  trail  that  led  from  Ah-wah-nee,  with  its 
blossoming  dogwood  and  azalea,  its  buckthorn 
and  willow,  to  the  snows  of  the  higher  moun- 
tains, the  home  of  her  people. 

Swiftly  she  ran,  frightened  by  the  night 
shapes  that  danced  before  her  in  the  path, 
nor  daring  to  slacken  her  pace  or  give  a 
backward  glance.  But  scarce  had  she  passed 
through  the  spray  thrown  across  the  trail  by 
Py-we-ack,  the  White  Water,  when  she  heard 
wild  shouts  rising  from  the  half-darkness 
below,  shouts  that  told  her  the  Ah-wah-nee- 
chees  knew  that  she  was  gone,  had  started  in 
pursuit.  Behind  her  on  the  trail  her  footprints 
lay  naked  on  the  yielding  earth,  and  she  knew 
that  here  in  Ah-wah-nee  the  men  of  Ten-ie-ya's 
band  knew  every  path  that  she  might  choose, 
every  tree  and  rock  where  she  might  find  a 
hiding-place.  Already  the  race  was  won. 
[41] 


Py-we-ack,  the  White  Water 

Nearer  they  came,  her  Ah-wah-nee-chee 
captor  and  a  score  of  braves  who  joined 
with  boisterous  shouts  this  chase  that  had  no 
need  of  cunning  since  for  a  weak  prey  there 
was  no  escape. 

Among  the  trees  they  caught  uncertain 
glimpses  of  the  fleeing  figure,  but  at  last 
Wa-hu-lah  bounded  into  a  clear,  broad  stretch 
of  moonlight  where  the  trees  fall  back  to  let 
the  river  widen  to  a  calmer  course  after  its 
reckless  plunge  from  the  cliff  above. 

The  pool  that  shines  emerald  bright  by  day 
lay  still  and  black  with  the  pale  gold  moon 
upon  its  breast.  Straight  for  its  bank  Wa-hu- 
lah  ran,  and  as  her  foot  touched  the  rocky 
ledge,  her  pursuers  sprang  with  a  cry  of 
triumph  into  the  open.  Not  a  moment  did 
the  maiden  dare  to  lose.  Stooping,  she 
unloosed  the  canoe  that  floated  in  the  shadow 
of  the  ledge,  a  canoe  used  by  the  Ah-wah- 
nee-chees  in  crossing  the  Emerald  Pool. 

Stepping  into  the  shallow  bark,  Wa-hu-lah 
pushed  it  from  the  shore,  and  with  quick 
[42] 


Py-we-ack,  the  White  Water 

strokes  drove  it  toward  the  middle  of  the 
stream,  where  she  knew  the  water  ran  swift 
and  deep  and  strong. 

Like  some  strange  night  bird  the  canoe 
skimmed  the  surface  of  the  pool,  the  girl 
erect,  defiant,  her  long  black  hair  tossing, 
winglike,  on  the  wind.  Drawn  by  the  cur- 
rent it  glided  on,  dark  and  silent,  toward 
Py-we-ack,  where  the  water  with  a  second 
leap  dashes  itself  to  death  upon  the  rocks. 

Along  the  shelving  bank  the  baffled  Ah- 
wah-nee-chee  ran,  but  swifter  ran  the  dark 
and  silent  figure  in  the  stream;  and  even  as 
the  young  chief  plunged  into  the  icy  water  in 
one  last  effort  to  reclaim  his  stolen  bride,  the 
boat  slipped  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff  and 
went  to  pieces  on  the  rocks,  where  the  white 
spirits  of  the  water  threw  themselves  around 
the  maiden  and  hid  her  in  a  shroud  of  spray. 

Thus  Wa-hu-lah  proved  herself  faithful  to 
her  Mo-no  lover,  and  the  Ah-wah-nee-chee 
was  cheated  of  his  bride. 


[43] 


• . 


"Along  the  edge  of  the  river  and  over  the  meadows   *   *   one  can 
now  find  tiny  white  violets." 


TU-TOCK-AH-NV-LAH 

flS    -    S  A   -  A  C  K 


Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah   and   Tis-sa-ack 

SINCE  the  world  was  young  Tu-tock-ah- 
nu-lah,  the  Rock  Chief,  had  guarded 
Ah-wah-nee,  the  home  of  the  children 
of  the  sun.  For  his  watch-tower  he  chose  a 
storm-tried  rock  on  the  northern  wall  of  the 
valley,  and  from  this  far  height  defied  all 
the  powers  of  evil. 

In  the  spring  he  besought  the  Great 
Spirit  to  send  rain  that  the  wild  corn  might 
hang  heavy  with  tasseling  grain,  the  berries 
cluster  thick  on  the  branches  of  the  manza- 
nita,  and  the  fish  abound  in  the  waters  of 
the  river.  In  the  summer  he  fattened  the 
bear  and  deer,  and  in  the  autumn  he  wan- 
dered through  the  mountains  driving  them 
from  their  haunts  that  the  hunter  might  not 
return  empty-handed  from  the  chase.  The 
smoke  of  his  pipe  spread  like  a  soft  haze 
through  the  air,  sheltering  the  women  from 
the  sun  when  they  went  forth  to  gather  acorns 
and  wood  for  winter. 

His  form  was  like  a  spear,  straight  and 
strong;  and  he  reared  his  head  high  above 
[47] 


Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah   and   Tis-sa-ack 


the  clouds.  In  his  arm  was  the  strength  of 
an  untamed  grizzly;  and  his  voice  was  like 
the  sound  of  Cho-look,  the  great  fall  that 
thunders  down  from  the  north,  starting  deep 
echoes  from  crag  and  gorge.  When  the  sun- 
light danced  upon  the  water,  the  Ah-wah- 
nee-chees  were  happy,  for  they  knew  that 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah  smiled;  when  the  sky  was 
overcast,  they  trembled,  fearful  of  his  frown; 
when  his  sighs  swept  mournfully  through  the 
pines,  they,  too,  were  sad.  The  children  of 
Ah-wah-nee  loved  the  mighty  Rock  Chief  who 
dwelt  above  them  in  his  lonely  lodge. 

One  morning,  as  his  midnight  watch  drew 
to  a  close  and  the  first  pale  glint  of  day 
shone  on  his  forehead,  he  heard  a  soft  voice 
whisper,  "  Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah ! " 

His  eyes  burned  with  the  passion  fire  as 
a  fair  vision  rose  before  him,  yonder  on  the 
granite  dome  of  the  southern  wall.  It  was 
the  form  of  a  maiden,  not  of  the  dark  tribe 
he  loved  and  guarded,  but  fairer  than  any  he 
had  seen  or  known  in  dreams.  Her  face 
[48] 


Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah  and  Tis-sa-ack 


had  the  rosy  flush  of  dawn,  her  eyes  took 
their  color  from  the  morning  sky,  and  her 
hair  was  like  strands  of  golden  sunlight.  Her 
voice  was  low  as  a  dove  call  when  she 
whispered  Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah's  name. 

For  a  moment  she  lingered,  smiling;  but 
even  as  the  Rock  Chief  leaped  from  his 
tower  in  answer  to  her  call,  she  glided 
across  the  rounded  dome  and  faded  from  his 
sight,  leaving  her  throne  shrouded  in  a  snowy 
cloud.  Piqued  by  the  mystery  of  her  flight, 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah  followed  the  sound  of  her 
rustling  garments,  wandering  all  day  over  the 
mountains;  but  the  pine  trees  wove  a  blue 
mist  about  her,  hiding  her  from  his  eyes.  Not 
until  he  returned  to  his  citadel  at  night  did 
he  see  her  face  again.  Then  for  an  instant 
she  appeared  upon  her  throne,  her  pale  brow 
tinged  with  the  rose  glow  of  the  sun;  and 
he  knew  that  she  was  Tis-sa-ack,  the  Goddess 
of  the  Valley,  who  shared  with  him  the  lov- 
ing care  of  the  Ah-wah-nee-chees. 

Every  morning  now  at  dawn  Tu-tock-ah- 
[49] 


Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah   and   Tis-sa-ack 


nu-lah  left  his  tower  and  sped  across  the 
valley  to  meet  the  lovely  goddess  of  his 
heart's  desire.  Through  the  day  he  hovered 
near  her,  gazing  upon  the  fair  form,  always 
half  hidden  by  billowing  cloud,  trying  to  read 
an  answering  love  in  her  wide  blue  eyes. 
But  never  again  did  he  hear  the  voice  that 
came  to  him  across  the  valley  in  the  stillness 
of  that  one  gray  dawn. 

Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah's  passion  grew  day  by 
day,  as  summer  ripens  the  fruits  of  spring- 
time budding;  but  Tis-sa-ack  had  no  joy  in 
his  love.  Her  heart  was  heavy  with  a  great 
sorrow,  for  she  saw  that  the  Rock  Chief  was 
blind  to  the  needs  of  his  people,  that  he  had 
forsaken  those  who  looked  to  him  for  life. 

The  sun  burned  his  way  through  the  sky, 
and  no  rains  fell  to  cool  the  aching  earth. 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah  paid  no  heed  to  the  with- 
ering leaves  of  the  wild  corn,  the  shrunken 
streams  from  which  the  fisherman  turned 
with  empty  nets,  the  shriveling  acorns  that 
fell  worthless  to  the  ground.  He  neither 
[50] 


Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah  and   Tis-sa-ack 


knew  nor  cared  that  the  hunter,  after  weary 
days  in  the  mountains,  came  to  his  lodge  at 
night  with  arrows  unused,  to  meet  the  anxious 
glance  of  starving  women  and  hear  the  wail- 
ing cry  of  hungry  children. 

The  Ah-wah-nee-chees  called  upon  the 
Rock  Chief  in  vain.  He  did  not  hear  their 
cries ;  he  thought  only  of  his  love.  The  harvest 
moon  looked  down  into  the  valley  and  saw 
the  dark  form  of  Famine  skulking  there. 
Then  it  was  that  Tis-sa-ack's  love  was  swept 
away  by  an  overwhelming  pity;  and  as  she 
lay  upon  her  couch  she  cried  out  to  the 
Great  Spirit  to  send  the  rain-clouds  that 
bear  life  to  all  things  of  the  earth. 

And  even  as  she  prayed,  there  came 
an  answer  to  her  prayer.  With  a  voice 
of  thunder  the  Great  Spirit  gave  commands 
to  the  spirits  of  the  air.  With  a  barbed 
shaft  of  lightning  he  rent  the  granite  dome 
where  Tis-sa-ack  prayed;  and  from  the 
cleft  rock  came  a  rush  of  water  that  filled 
the  dry  basin  of  Wai-ack,  the  Mirror  Lake, 
[51] 


Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah  and   Tis-sa-ack 


and  sent  a  wandering  stream  through  the 
thirsty  fields. 

Now  the  withered  corn-stalks  raised  their 
drooping  heads,  flowers  nodded  among  the 
waving  grasses  and  offered  their  lips  to  the 
wild  bees,  and  the  acorns  swelled  with  sap 
that  crept  upward  from  reviving  roots.  The 
women  went  joyously  into  the  fields  to  gather 
the  harvest,  and  the  men  no  longer  returned 
with  empty  pouches  from  the  forest  or  fished 
by  the  riverside  in  vain. 

The  chief  of  the  Ah-wah-nee-chees  ordered 
a  great  feast,  and  all  faces  were  turned  in  grati- 
tude to  the  dome  where  Tis-sa-ack  dwelt.  But 
Tis-sa-ack  was  gone.  She  had  sacrificed  her 
love,  her  life,  for  the  children  of  Ah-wah-nee. 
Through  her  they  had  suffered;  through  her 
their  sufferings  had  ceased;  and  that  all  might 
hold  her  memory  dear  she  left  them  the  lake,  the 
river  and  a  fragment  of  her  throne.  Upon  the 
bosom  of  Ke-koo-too-yem,  the  Sleeping  Water, 
her  spirit  rests,  wandering  sometimes  of  a  summer 
evening  to  the  Half  Dome,  there  to  linger  for  a 
[52] 


gnnsb 


"  Her  spirit,   *   x   wandering   *   *   to  the  Half  Dome,  there  to  linger 

for  a  moment." 


Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah  and  Tis-sa-ack 

moment  as  the  sun  slips  over  the  western 
wall  of  the  valley. 

As  she  flew  away  a  soft  down  from  her 
wings  fell  upon  the  earth;  and  where  it  fell, 
along  the  edge  of  the  river  and  over  the 
meadows  stretching  toward  Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah's 
watch-tower,  one  can  now  find  tiny  white 
violets,  whose  fragrance  is  the  secret  of  a  loving 
spirit,  a  breath  of  happiness  to  all  who  gather 
them. 

When  Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah  found  that  Tis-sa- 
ack  was  gone,  a  great  sadness  came  upon  him. 
Day  and  night  his  sighs  swept  through  the 
pine  trees.  He  puffed  gloomily  at  his  pipe  until 
his  tower  was  hidden  in  a  cloud  of  smoke. 
At  last,  thinking  to  follow  and  find  his  lost 
love,  he  went  away;  and  lest  he  be  forgotten, 
he  carved  with  his  hunting-knife  the  outlines 
of  his  face  upon  the  wall  of  his  fortress,  which 
the  white  man  has  named  El  Capitan. 

As  he  turned  sadly  from  his  lodge,  Tu- 
tock-ah-nu-lah  perceived  that  the  air  was  filled 
with  a  rare  and  subtle  perfume,  blowing  from 
[53] 


Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah   and   Tis-sa-ack 

a  stretch  of  meadow  fringed  with  tamarack. 
Thinking  it  the  breath  of  Tis-sa-ack,  he  fol- 
lowed on  and  on,  forgetful  of  the  arts  of  E-ee- 
ke-no,  who  dwells  among  the  water-lilies  in 
the  lake  which  the  Three  Brothers  hold  in 
the  hollow  of  their  hands. 

E-ee-ke-no  had  long  loved  the  Rock  Chief, 
but  Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah  scorned  her  unsought 
love,  which  turned  through  jealousy  to  bitter 
hate.  Now  as  she  saw  him  go  away  in  search 
of  Tis-sa-ack,  she  threw  around  him  the  mystic 
fragrance  of  the  water-lily,  which,  gentle  as  a 
caress,  is  deadly  to  all  who  win  the  hatred  of 
E-ee-ke-no. 

On  and  on  across  the  meadow  fringed 
with  tamarack,  among  the  wild  flowers  and  the 
waving  grasses,  Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah  wandered, 
following  blindly  the  transformed  spirit  of  E-ee- 
ke-no  until  he  disappeared  forever  in  the 
depths  of  the  lake. 


[54] 


ifew-dA  fo  iluw  Hnod 


Forever  and  forever  the  Three  Brothers  sit  looking  over  each  other's 
shoulders  from  the  north  wall  of  Ah-wah-nee." 


KOM-PO-PAI-SLS 

LEAPING      FROG      ROCKS 


Kom-po-pai-ses,  Leaping  Frog  Rocks 

FREVER  and  forever  the  Three 
Brothers  sit  looking  over  each  other's 
shoulders  from  the  north  wall  of 
Ah-wah-nee. 

The  Indians  likened  these  peaks  to  frogs 
sitting  back  upon  their  haunches  ready  to  leap, 
and  called  them  Kom-po-pai-ses,  the  Leaping 
Frog  Rocks.  This  the  white  man  did  not 
know  when  he  named  them  the  Three  Brothers. 

The  story  of  the  Three  Brothers  is  his- 
tory, not  tradition.  It  has  to  do  with  the 
coming  of  the  white  man  to  Ah-wah-nee,  and 
the  downfall  of  Ten-ie-ya,  the  last  chief  of 
the  Ah-wah-nee-chees. 

Across  the  plains  that  billow  away  toward 
the  sea,  Ten-ie-ya  watched  the  approach  of 
the  white  stranger,  having  always  in  mind  the 
words  of  the  old  man  who  was  his  counselor 
when  he  left  the  land  of  his  Mo-no  mother 
and  returned  to  Ah-wah-nee  to  rule  over  his 
father's  people. 

The  patriarch  had  heard  the  call  of  the 
Great  Spirit,  bidding  him  to  the  happy  land 
[57] 


Kom-po-pai-ses,  Leaping  Frog  Rocks 

of  the  West,  and  had  told  Ten-ie-ya  many 
things.  This,  last  of  all: 

"Obey  my  word,  O  Ten-ie-ya,  and  your 
people  shall  be  many  as  the  blades  of  grass, 
and  none  shall  dare  to  bring  war  into 
Ah-wah-nee.  But  look  you  ever,  my  son, 
against  the  white  horsemen  of  the  great  plains 
beyond ;  for  once  they  have  crossed  the  west- 
ern mountains,  your  tribe  will  scatter  as  the 
dust  before  a  desert  wind,  and  never  come 
together  again.  Guard  well  your  stronghold, 
O  Ten-ie-ya,  lest  you  be  the  last  of  the 
great  chiefs  of  Ah-wah-nee." 

The  faded  eyes  had  the  light  that  comes 
when  the  call  of  the  Great  Spirit  sounds  very 
near,  and  the  feeble  hand  of  the  patriarch 
trembled  as  he  raised  his  pipe  above  his 
head,  and  said: 

"  Great  Spirit,  I  pray  be  good  to  my  son, 
the  chief  of  the  Ah-wah-nee-chees.  Toward 
the  pines,  north,  cold  wind  treat  him  kindly; 
toward  the  rising  sun,  east,  great  sun  shine 
upon  his  lodge  in  the  early  morning;  toward 
[58] 


Kom-po-pai-ses,  Leaping  Frog  Rocks 

the  place  where  the  sun  goes  in  winter,  south, 
bless  my  son ;  toward  the  land  of  the  setting 
sun,  west,  waft  on  the  breezes  a  peaceful 
sleep.  And,  lowering  my  pipe,  I  say,  kind 
mother  earth,  when  you  receive  my  son  into 
your  warm  bosom,  hold  him  gently.  Let  the 
howl  of  the  coyote,  the  roaring  of  the  bear 
and  the  mountain-lion,  and  the  sound  of 
winds  swaying  the  tops  of  the  pine  trees,  be 
to  him  a  sweet  lullaby.*' 

Because  of  these  last  words  of  the  dying 
seer,  Ten-ie-ya  guarded  his  mountain  retreat 
as  a  she-bear  guards  the  refuge  of  her  young. 
With  vague  foreboding  he  saw  the  white 
horsemen  coming  nearer.  They  took  the  land 
that  the  Great  Spirit  had  made  for  the  peo- 
ple of  his  race.  They  burrowed  into  it  like 
moles,  and  washed  the  sands  of  its  rivers, 
searching  for  something  yellow  and  shining 
that  the  Indian  neither  knew  was  there  nor 
cared  to  know.  They  grazed  their  horses 
and  their  cattle  upon  the  broad  stretches  that 
had  been  the  Indian's  hunting-ground  since 
[59] 


Kom-po-pai-ses,  Leaping  Frog  Rocks 

time  began.  They  even  went  so  far,  these 
pale-faced  strangers,  as  to  steal  Indian  women 
for  their  wives.  And  always  they  made  their 
camps  nearer  and  nearer  to  Ah-wah-nee. 

While  the  vigor  of  youth  remained,  Ten- 
ie-ya  did  not  fear  these  men  of  an  alien 
race.  He  only  hated  them.  With  his  band 
of  lawless  Grizzlies  he  stole  forth  in  the  night 
and  drove  away  their  horses  to  kill  for  food; 
and  as  they  feasted,  drunk  with  the  taste  of 
warm  blood,  their  spirits  were  made  bold,  and 
the  deep  gorge  rang  with  shouts  of  defiance. 

But  Ten-ie-ya  grew  old,  and  the  white 
horsemen  of  the  plains,  now  strong  in  num- 
ber, were  at  the  very  walls  of  Ah-wah-nee. 
The  words  of  the  dying  patriarch  were  ever 
in  his  ears,  and  he  knew  that  the  evil  day 
was  come. 

At  last  the  white  men  climbed  the  western 
mountains,  offering  gifts  in  the  name  of  the 
Great  Father,  their  chief;  and  when  they 
went  away  they  led  Ten-ie-ya  captive  to  their 
camp.  The  young  braves  fled  from  Ah- 
[60] 


Toward  the  pines,  north,  cold  wind  treat  him  kindly.'* 


Kom-po-pai-ses,  Leaping  Frog  Rocks 

wah-nee,  across  To-co-yah,  the  North  Dome, 
to  the  home  of  the  Mo-nos.  It  was  well 
that  Ten-ie-ya  should  go  to  the  plains,  they 
said;  but  they  were  young  and  could  find 
plenty  in  the  mountains;  they  would  not  go 
to  be  herded  like  horses  in  the  white  man's 
camp. 

Though  he  appeared  to  yield,  the  spirit 
of  Ten-ie-ya  was  not  broken.  Like  a  wild 
beast  in  captivity,  he  chafed  under  restraint. 
With  the  cunning  of  his  race,  he  watched  his 
chance;  and  when  it  came,  he  returned  to  his 
stronghold  in  the  Sky  Mountains,  bearing  in 
his  heart  a  fiercer  hate  for  the  white  man,  a 
hate  made  keener  by  defeat,  a  hate  that 
burned  for  revenge. 

But  an  evil  spell  seemed  cast  upon  the 
children  of  Ah-wah-nee.  They  were  scat- 
tered, and  they  did  not  rally  round  their 
chief.  Again  the  white  horsemen  climbed 
the  western  mountains,  this  time  without 
gifts.  But  day  and  night  signal  fires  had 
burned  upon  the  mountain  tops;  and  when 
[61] 


^ 


Kom-po-pai-ses,  Leaping  Frog  Rocks 

the  messengers  of  the  Great  Father  entered 
Ah-wah-nee  they  found  the  valley  deserted, 
save  for  five  dark  figures  that  darted  like 
shadows  from  tree  to  rock  at  the  base  of  a 
jagged  spur  of  the  northern  wall. 

Feeling  themselves  secure  because  of  the 
swollen  river  that  lay  between,  the  five  scouts 
came  into  the  open  when  discovered,  and 
mocked  the  strangers ;  then  disappeared  up  the 
side  of  a  cliff  so  straight  and  pathless  that  no 
white  man  could  follow.  By  fair  promises 
carried  to  them  by  an  Indian  guide  they 
were  induced  to  come  into  camp,  and  three 
of  them  were  found  to  be  sons  of  Ten-ie-ya. 

It  does  not  speak  for  the  faith  of  white 
men  that  one  of  the  brothers  was  killed  while 
held  as  hostage  until  the  aged  chief  should 
come  in  and  deliver  himself  to  the  messengers 
of  the  Great  Father;  and  that  only  an  uncer- 
tain aim  saved  another  who  tried  to  escape 
through  the  Canon  of  the  Arrow-wood, 
where  his  father  was  hiding.  When  he  saw 
it  was  useless  to  resist  further  these  fearless, 
[62] 


Kom-po-pai-ses,  Leaping  Frog  Rocks 

faithless  horsemen  of  the  plains,  who  had 
stolen  his  lands  and  his  women,  who  would 
not  let  him  live  in  peace  in  his  mountains, 
Ten-ie-ya  came  down  from  Le-ham-i-te,  the 
Canon  of  the  Arrow-wood,  by  a  trail  that 
led  into  the  valley  through  the  branches  of 
a  giant  oak. 

The  first  sight  that  met  the  gaze  of  the 
twice-conquered  chieftain  was  the  dead  body 
of  his  youngest  son.  He  spoke  no  word,  but 
lines  of  sorrow  appeared  in  the  hard,  old 
face;  and  secretly,  in  the  heart  of  the  night, 
he  had  the  young  chiefs  body  carried  away 
— none  knew  where.  Once  more  he  tried 
for  his  liberty;  once  more  was  captured. 
Then  in  a  passion  of  grief  and  rage,  he 
turned  his  bare  breast  to  his  captors,  and 
cried: 

"Kill  me,  white  chief,  as  you  have  killed 
my  son,  as  you  would  kill  all  my  people  if 
they  would  but  come  to  you.  You  have 
brought  sorrow  to  my  heart.  For  me  the 
sun  shines  no  more.  Kill  me,  white  chief,  and 
[63] 


Kom-po-pai-ses,  Leaping  Frog  Rocks 

when  I  am  dead  I  will  call  my  people,  that 
they  shall  come  and  avenge  the  death  of  their 
chief  and  his  son.  My  spirit  will  follow  your 
footsteps  forever.  I  will  not  leave  the  spirit 
world,  you  will  not  see  me,  but  I  will  follow 
you  where  you  go  and  you  will  know  it  is 
the  spirit  of  the  old  chief,  and  you  will  fear 
me  and  grow  cold.  This  is  the  message  of 
the  Great  Spirit." 

But  Ten-ie-ya's  hour  was  not  yet  come. 
He  was  to  die,  for  an  act  of  treachery,  at 
the  hands  of  the  Mo-nos,  his  mother's  people. 
Even  so,  the  prophecy  of  the  seer  was  ful- 
filled, for  the  white  horsemen  of  the  plains 
had  crossed  the  western  mountains,  the  tribe 
was  scattered,  never  to  come  together  again, 
and  Ten-ie-ya  was  the  last  great  chief  of  the 
Ah-wah-nee-chees. 

Because  his  three  sons  were  captured  at 
its  base,  the  triple  peak  in  the  northern  wall 
was  given  the  name  Three  Brothers. 


[64] 


THIS  EDITION  OF  YOSEMITE  LEGENDS  WAS 
DONE  FOR  PAUL  ELDER  AND  COMPANY 
AT  THE  TOMOYE  PRESS,  SAN  FRANCISCO,  IN 
THE  YEAR  NINETEEN  HUNDRED  AND  FOUR 


<&> 


n 


^ 


